Crushed
by Natural Frequency
Summary: If you were left to die in the woods buried under an avalanche of filth and despair, would anyone notice you were gone? Would they care?


It was not so poetic an end as he had hoped. No bards would sing of an archer caught in an untimely mudslide, unless it was to make fool of him for not seeing the enemy mage that had cast open the ground beneath him. Still, perhaps his last arrow on the unsteady ground found its target and he'd saved another life because of it. It was only right that he die in place of another. He couldn't before, but now his noble duty had come to properly claim him.

Virion coughed and the crude hill of mud and branches sloughed, filling his tomb in more securely. He could still breathe for the time being at least, though it hurt dreadfully to do so. All around him things were clustered, obscuring his vision of the forest beyond. He wasn't sure if he could feel his legs or if they were merely numb from the earthen pressure.

_"I think I finally understand your game. You aren't courting women, you're courting death."_

Sully's sharp and matter-of-fact words came clearly to him in the silence of his slow death. Even now, he could not tell if she had been right, but her words had chilled him so much that he had been unable to do anything but excuse himself and scurry away. He hadn't been able to quell his racing thoughts on the matter for days, and now they returned to torment him again. He recalled throwing himself in the way of many spells and strikes meant for allies. But what would have happened had they actually killed him? Is that what he'd secretly wanted? Maribelle too had been right to question his motives, it was only a shame he had never determined how to address his own faults. Her reassurance on the matter had been sweet but incomplete.

He _was_ a failure as a noble. And so it was right that he should die as one: crippled, humiliated, and alone. His country would have to find a new champion for them, once they actually realized he would never return. But it was all right, they deserved better than he.

The earth thundered around him and the mudslide shifted again. Was it the enemy army, moving about the woods? Would he soon be ripped apart by Risen, possibly to become one himself? He shuddered.

Who would be the one to strike him down in that instance? _(Would he have any of his noble poise as a member of the undead?)_ Would anyone feel regret bringing him down? (_Would he still be the archest of archers? Or would he suffer a decomposition of skill as well?)_ He chuckled lightly, wincing from the pain. No one would care.

No one ever did.

"Poet."

Virion's eyes flickered open.

"Poet, if you are awake speak. Your heartbeat is too weak for me to find on its own."

_Sweet Panne?_ He tried to speak but only sputtered, gasping for breath. Perhaps he could try sitting up…

The second he tried, a precarious tree-approximately as wide as his arm- slid down the pile, and it was all he could do to duck his head to make way for it. He may have escaped death by broken neck, but asphyxiation and a fresh head wound threatened him next. He thrashed in place, wriggling an arm free, suffering the fiery pains within to frantically scrape the heavy muck from his face.

"Poet! Virion, you must speak again or I cannot find you."

Virion drew a deep breath and the crushing weight on his chest threatened it would be his last, "I am here, dear Panne. Beneath…" he lacked the strength to project his voice and the growing weight effectively killed his ability to regain it, filling in the gap his breath had made. He could feel it seeping in around him, into his clothes and trying for his lungs: a watery grave patiently sucking its occupant into itself.

His eyes flickered closed. He knew not for how long.

"No."

_What?_

"NO."

Virion's face stung. Blinking through moisture he made out a hand above him.

"I _will_ slap you again if I have to, now stay awake, dammit."

The hand that clawed at his chest did not belong to Panne, that was for sure. When it pulled at his arm, he grunted against the sharp fire, a high-pitched squeak escaping his throat. He had always wished there were some more…elegant way to convey pain, but ceded to the reality that there was none. Besides, one could hardly expect otherwise from a man half-buried already.

"Ruffles, I'm gonna need you to take a deep breath in about five seconds, all right? This will hurt but it's the only way to get you out. You're buried under a damn maze."

He winced and nodded, not knowing if she could see.

"Five."

He blinked several times with anxiety.

"Four."

This could fail, and this breath truly would be his last.

"Three."

Why was this so much more painful a thought than when he had been alone mere moments ago?

"Two."

Was it because salvation was within reach?

"One."

Or was it something more specific? Some_one _perhaps?

"Go!"

Virion took a deep, sucking breath, the heavy scent of earth and leaves and water filling his senses.

The world around him heaved. He felt a great weight near his legs lift, but the avalanche filled in around him. He barely squeezed his eyes against the new tide of mud, and thought he heard a partial expletive before he went under.

"SHI-"

He would hold his breath as long as possible, but this was it. He- _OW._ He nearly released his new breath as fire shot through his whole body. Something gripped his ankles fiercely and he felt his body drag through the heavy loam. Every time he faced resistance, whether by stone or branch or something else, his body was pulled harder. He helped himself along with the weak use of his arms. He saw stars, his chest quivered with its hold on his final lung-full of air. He had been close, so close but-

"BREATHE, DUMBASS." Sully struck Virion forcefully on the chest with a closed fist. He lurched forward and coughed violently, water, mud and spit flying forward. His whole body quaked and shivered, he pulled one arm around his front, pressing an open palm to his chest. "My ladies," he wheezed.

A mud-slicked arm draped around his shoulders and patted him on the back, loosing more of the moisture that had found its way inside hm. "Just shut up for a while."Sully pulled him closer, and rubbed his back less forcefully. "You really are insane, you know. Really damn nuts."

"I-" words were hard. His chest still felt as if the world were sitting upon it, upon him. He could stay neither his vision nor his body, and so he leaned into her shoulder.

Sully continued, eyeing him critically. "Do you know how I knew you were missing? By all accounts, I shouldn't have even noticed. You weren't even near me when we were fighting, and yet I found one of your arrows lodged in the breast of a man who was probably seconds away from taking my head- and I'd never have noticed till it was rolling on the ground." She narrowed her eyes, "I put myself an entire world away from you and your antics and you still found a way to make yourself known, to come between me and death."

Virion hiccoughed and shivered, smiling weakly. _Had that been his final shot? Saving her? Or had it been an earlier one?_

"But when everyone made to set up camp, you were nowhere. Not a gods-damn hair of you could be found. You may be a nuisance when you're around, but damn if your absence didn't bug me more. Still, you should really thank Panne. She's the one who actually figured out you were missing after I asked if she'd seen you. And without her senses or her strength, I doubt I could have found your pulled you out. She's the one who pried that tree up. Though," Sully experimentally poked Virion in the arm, "you might've suffered fewer broken bones hadn't we come."

Virion stared at her open-mouthed. "My dear, I-!" He grimaced and held his chest, but beamed at her all the same.

"Oh don't make such a big fuss. You're useful at the very least. And reliable. I would have come fo-what are you doing?_ Stoppit!"_

Pained as he was, Virion threw his arms around Sully's muddy waist and clung to her crooning, "Sweet Sully, have you finally entrusted your heart to your noble servant Virion?"

"If you keep this up, I'll drown you in the mud myself! Let go, dammit!" She leaned away from him and pressed her palm forcefully to his face. "Doesn't almost _dying_ even slow you down?"

"I suppose I-" Virion coughed and fell over on the ground his spurt of energy extinguished, "…I could use a healer." He laughed lightly.

_Someone cared, cared enough to spot the hand of aid he'd lent, cared enough to notice he was missing, cared enough to ask about him, to dig through the filth and pull him out. Cared enough to let him know._

"You really are mad, aren't you?" Sully sat back on the heels of her hands, but smiled her crooked smile.

"Normally I would not offer this but," Panne's muddied rabbit face filled his vision, "perhaps I ought to carry you back, lest you continue to injure yourself with your own words."

"Perhaps that would be best," he said laying his head down. He drew in a deep breath, the pain now an affirmation of his survival rather than a herald to his death. "Thank you my dears. For coming."

..x..

* * *

_A short piece to get a feel for writing some of the characters. I am out of writing practice and I'm sure it shows. But the piece was simple and enjoyable to write, nonetheless._

_Thank you for reading._


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